


Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want

by mambo



Series: four years of college and plenty of knowledge [10]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, College AU, Frat Boy!Bucky, M/M, Punk!Steve, Skinny!Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-31
Updated: 2015-01-31
Packaged: 2018-03-09 19:02:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,584
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3260939
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mambo/pseuds/mambo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Steve liberates a kitten and brings him to Bucky's room.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want

**Author's Note:**

> This takes place during the second semester of Steve's sophomore year/Bucky's junior year.

“ _So for once in my life_

_Let me get what I want_

_Lord knows it would be the first time._ ”

—“Please, Please, Please Let Me Get What I Want” by The Smiths

**…**

There is a small fur ball in Bucky Barnes’s room.

And he doesn’t mean Steve, who has been letting the usually-shaved sides of his head grow in, making his head look a little fuzzy and disproportionate.

No, he means the energetic ball of black fur and white paws that his fuzzy-headed boyfriend is playing with on the floor, jumping and swatting at the yellow, number 2 pencil that Steve is lifting up and down, up and down. Neither notices Bucky enter _his own_ room, and that’s a little irritating.

“Steve,” Bucky says, dropping his backpack next to his bed and shutting the door. He’s calm, he’s cool. He’s definitely doing an okay job of pretending that this is at least mildly normal. “Why is there a cat in my room?”

Steve turns around; when the kitten realizes that Steve’s attention has moved elsewhere, it yowls. “Hear me out,” Steve starts, voice placating and calm, but betraying nervousness.

The kitten paws at Steve’s knee. Bucky can see its little white claws, but if its hurting Steve, Steve’s doing a great job of hiding it.

“I’m listenin’,” Bucky responds, sitting down on his bed and resolutely trying to ignore the soft kitten doing everything it can to try to get Steve to pay attention to it again. It’s trying to clamber up onto Steve’s lap now—not that Bucky’s paying attention—but its little legs aren’t long enough to get him there.

“Alright,” Steve begins in his deep voice. “So.”

He hesitates and Bucky has an idea of what’s up.

“So you did somethin’ stupid.” Buck flops down onto his back. He’s too tired for this right now. He loves Steve, loves him so much he thinks he might burst from it, but Jesus Christ. Did he have to pick today to open up the Steve Rogers Home For Wayward Cats? And does he have to do it in Bucky’s room?

“C’mon Buck,” Steve says. “They were gonna put him down! We don’t have to keep him forever, just ’til I can find somebody to take him in.”

“We?” Bucky asks, eyebrow raised.

He can hear Steve get up. “Sam’s allergic,” he explains.

“Or he’s smart enough to pretend to be.”

Bucky is only slightly surprised when there’s a sudden weight on top of his chest. He looks up—eyes straining and almost crossed—and there’s the cat. Sitting on his chest like he owns the place. He meows, high-pitched, and paws at the fabric of Bucky’s shirt with a white paw. “It won’t be long, Buck. I promise.” He pauses and the cat curls up into a little ball like he’s about to fall asleep. “He’s so small; you’ll barely notice he’s here.”

“You’re just lucky I have a soft spot for tiny, squeaky things.”

Steve is pouting, and the kitten meows again.

“Looks like he’s learnin’ from his daddy.” Steve rolls his eyes. “What’s his name?” Bucky asks, reaching up to touch the cat’s soft fur, stroking down his back with his index finger. Whatever. Bucky’s fucked, so he may as well learn to like the little thing.

“Morrissey,” Steve responds. Bucky stares, but when Steve doesn’t have a punchline, he just laughs. “What?” Steve asks, crossing his arms over his chest with a challenging glare.

“You named the cat Morrissey?”

“That a problem?”

Morrissey climbs off of Bucky’s chest and onto his bed. He lumbers around Buck’s blankets until he gets close to Bucky’s face. Bucky turns his head to face the cat; Morrissey stares at him for a moment before plopping down and curling up and next to Bucky’s cheek, yawning before shutting his little eyes. “‘Course not,” Bucky says. “Leave it to you to name the second cutest thing on the planet after its most depressin’ singer.”

“What’s the cutest thing on the planet?” Steve asks, moving to sit on the edge of Bucky’s bed.

“You, of course.”

Steve swats his leg, but is hiding a smile.

“Be careful Steve,” Bucky says, grinning. “You’ll wake the cat.”

**…**

So suddenly Bucky owns a cat. Steve is running around, putting up signs and advertising that they have a cat to give away! And he’s free! But so far there’s been no luck, not even an inquiring phone call or email. It’s not like any students can really take him; most everyone lives on campus, and they’re not supposed to have pets in the dorms. Technically, Bucky isn’t even supposed to have a pet in student housing, but it’s not like his fraternity brothers are going to rat him out.

In fact…

“I think we should make him our mascot,” Dum Dum announces as he feeds Morrissey a treat.

Bucky had tried to keep it a secret, but Dum Dum has this annoying habit of barging into Bucky’s room without knocking, so the metaphorical cat was out of the metaphorical bag only three days into Morrissey’s stay. Bucky doesn’t mind so much, since now he can keep Morrissey’s liter box out in the lounge ,and he doesn’t have to deal with it stinking up his room.

(Dum Dum also used his presidential power to call a short all-fraternity meeting, where a small piece of the yearly budget was allocated to the care of Morrissey, which was totally inappropriate, and violated several school rules, but was also something that Bucky really appreciates.)

“I could get behind that,” Jim responds, angling his phone to take a picture of Dum Dum and Morrissey together. It’s probably going to end up on the Sigma Pi Instagram account, which is new but already more popular at school than he wants to think about.

“Are you all forgetting that we’re not keepin’ him?” Bucky asks, half-exasperated. Dum Dum is ignoring him, cooing at Morrissey and petting the kitten’s tiny little head as he purrs. Morrissey loves attention, loves the times where he can play with all the brothers together. When he was introduced at their big fraternity meeting he seemed to bask at the attention, letting himself be placed on the table and strutting around like he owned the place. Despite this, Bucky doesn’t want anybody getting too attached, even though he knows that it may be too late.

“It is a very cute cat,” Dernier says, reaching over and taking Morrissey from Dum Dum. He mutters something in French to the cat, and grins when Morrissey bats him on the nose.

“We need to Skype Gabe and Falsworth into this,” Dum Dum responds.

“Monty is knee-deep in grad work at NYU and Gabe is still in France,” Jim says, rolling his eyes. “Both of them have way better things to do than look at us playing with a cat.”

“Doubt it,” Dum Dum mutters.

“Playtime is over,” Bucky says, standing up and grabbing Morrissey from out of Jacques’s hands. “Gotta go study.”

Jacques begins protesting in French and Dum Dum yells something after him, but Bucky just walks away, letting Morrissey curl up in his arms.

He’s kind of cute, Bucky has to admit.

But he’s also worried. He’s seen the way Steve looks at this cat, how badly he wants to keep him. Bucky’s not good at caring for things, especially ones as delicate and small as this kitten. (That, and if the school finds out, Bucky will definitely be in huge trouble, and the fraternity will probably get sanctioned.)

When Bucky gets into his room, Morrissey hops out of his arms and trots onto Bucky’s bed. Bucky’s gotten used to living his life covered in cat fur, which isn’t something he ever really expected, but he’s sure things could be worse.

He snaps a picture and sends it to Steve.

_Bet he wishes you were here to play with_.

Bucky is getting his laptop booted up when he gets a response.

_Just him?_

Bucky grins.

_Think I could be convinced to play, too_

The response is immediate: _Be over in ten_.

Bucky sets his phone on his desk and pulls some books from his backpack. He should work tonight. He really should. But he’s been so on top of his game lately, juggling a thousand things without blinking. And he’s tired. He wants his boyfriend, and their cat, and a night to themselves.

(“You deserve to take a break,” Phil told him at their session that afternoon. “You’ve been doing so well, but you’re going to wear yourself down with these fellowship applications on top of everything else you do. Allow yourself to take a break.”)

So Bucky ignores the books, turns on some jazz and grabs a fluffy-looking cat toy from on top of his desk. He brings it over to Morrissey and begins playing. It’s only been two weeks and the cat’s a little bigger, a little more adventurous. Bucky was surprised at how friendly he was. From what Steve said, the first few weeks of his life had been pretty fraught.

“You’re a trooper, huh?” Bucky asks, setting down the toy.

Morrissey looks up at Bucky, makes a small noise, then begins attacking the toy where it sits on the bed.

Bucky laughs. He can’t really help it.

There’s the sound of a key going into the lock of the door, so Bucky looks up. He can’t help but grin when he sees Steve shrugging off his army jacket, revealing a t-shirt from a band that Bucky hasn’t heard of, sleeves cut off and Steve’s bony shoulders showing. His jeans are ripped and he’s wearing his scuffed-up, black Doc Martens. “Sorry,” Steve says, face a little red as he pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “Dum Dum caught me, wanted me to convince you to bring Morrissey back downstairs.”

Bucky raises an eyebrow. “What’d you tell him?”

Steve smirks. “Not something we should say in front of the cat.”

“The cat doesn’t speak English, Steve,” Bucky says, but it falls flat, since Steve is dropping his backpack and jacket unceremoniously onto the floor and then dropping his bony ass into Bucky’s lap so he can play with the cat. Bucky ‘umphs,’ but it’s only for effect, really. He wraps his arms around Steve’s chest and buries his face in his neck. “You should buzz your sides again,” Bucky says after a minute.

“Why’s that?” Steve asks. Bucky shifts just a little, so that he can see Steve petting Morrissey gently on the stomach with two fingers. Morrissey looks like he’s in little kitty heaven. Bucky hugs a little tighter.

“Dunno,” Bucky mutters into Steve’s shoulder. “Just like it, is all.” Bucky shuts his eyes. “Just like _you_.”

“Let go,” Steve says.

“Don’t wanna,” Bucky teases, gripping him tighter for a moment before acquiescing.

Steve laughs. “I think you want to,” he says, positioning himself so that he’s still on Bucky’s lap but facing Bucky. He’s got a leg on either side of Bucky’s hips and from this angle his face is at the same height as Bucky’s.

“Oh.” Bucky grins. “This is a much better view.”

Steve quirks an eyebrow, then leans in close to Bucky, lips ghosting over his. “Yeah?” he breathes, quiet and warm.

“Oh yeah.” Bucky reaches up and cups Steve’s jaw in his hand, strokes the smooth skin over his cheekbone with his thumb. “Best view in the whole goddamn place.”

Maybe sensing that Bucky’s not completely together today, Steve doesn’t say something snarky, just leans in and brushes his lips against Bucky’s. Bucky’s eyes flutter shut, one hand moving from Steve’s jaw to his neck, gently pushing him closer, closer, while he moves the other down to the mattress to keep the two of them supported as they kiss, closed-mouthed and soft, tantalizingly slow. Steve takes control, letting Bucky’s hand drop from his neck so that he can grip either side of Bucky’s face, shifting so that his legs wrap around Bucky’s torso.

Sometimes Bucky wonders if he could melt into Steve during moments like these, where it seems like they’re the only two people in the world. He’s sure he wouldn’t mind. Steve is kind and warm; he’s prickly and sarcastic. Sometimes Bucky forgets what his life was like before Steve became a part of it, like there are two distinct epochs: pre-and-post Steve Rogers. He’s never been in love before—well, at least not in this way—but he wonders if he’s somehow doing it wrong, that it’s not supposed to feel like this precarious, warm bubble that could burst at any moment and leave him empty. But it feels so good that it can’t be wrong; he wants to chase the feeling, even if he can’t articulate why.

He keeps the feeling quiet. The only person he wants to tell this to is Steve, but he’s also the only person he could never say a word of it to. There are moments where Bucky feels unsure, or like he’s clinging too tight. Sure, he drags Steve out of bar fights, and backs him up at protests, but Bucky’s the one who needs Steve. Needs his bony shoulders, his blue eyes, his annoying propensity for trouble. And Bucky doesn’t want to fuck that up.

“You wanna—“ Steve begins, but is cut off by Bucky’s loud yelp. “What the—“

“The fuckin’ cat?” Bucky says, moving his finger to his face to inspect the small, bleeding incisions from Morrissey’s bite.

They both glance down at Morrissey, who is looking up and meowing at the two of them. Then they look at each other and dissolve into reckless giggles.

**…**

Three days later Bucky hands Morrissey over to a Professor of Physics, who promises that he, Steve, or any of the Sigma Pis can visit whenever. Bucky smiles, and Steve thanks her. That evening Dum Dum posts a sad photo of Morrissey’s abandoned litter box to the Sigma Pi Instagram.

The world keeps turning.

**…**

“You’re sad,” Steve says in the dark, tracing Bucky’s lips with the pad of his thumb. Bucky grazes it lightly with his teeth, and Steve lets out a soft sigh. 

“Am not,” Bucky retorts half-heartedly, a blissed out and calm. Sex with Steve is always amazing, but tonight was especially good. Steve fucks like he does everything else: unselfconsciously passionate, selfless, clumsy, and beautiful. Bucky’s dick twitches hopefully at the thought of Steve’s arched back and flushed cheeks, but Bucky is content to lay here, Steve close to his side.

“Yes,” Steve chides, more serious now, “you are.”

Bucky sighs as Steve rests a possessive hand on his belly. Steve’s fingers are cold, but it feels nice on Bucky’s over-heated skin. He shuts his eyes and focuses on the sensation of Steve’s hand, of his breath against Bucky’s neck. “Maybe a bit,” he admits. “I liked the fur ball.”

“Didn’t think you’d be a cat person.”

Bucky smiles. “He grew on me.” Steve starts rubbing slow circles against his skin and Bucky’s breath hitches. Maybe he has it in him for a little more…

“We’ll get one, once we have a place of our own.” He pauses. “Maybe two.”

“Dreaming big?”

“Yeah,” Steve says. “Couldn’t when I was little, with the asthma. But it’s gotten a lot better.” Bucky takes a contented breath, and feels Steve’s lips on his temple. “I love you.”

“Love you, too,” Bucky says, dreaming of their future while Steve wraps himself around Bucky and starts to doze.

**Author's Note:**

> If you want to see me being as emotional as Bucky in this fic, follow me at whtaft.tumblr.com.


End file.
